


What Do You Call French Toast On Mars?

by mercutiglo



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Cooking, Fluff, M/M, Rita is mentioned, eating disorders mentioned in chap 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutiglo/pseuds/mercutiglo
Summary: Chapter one is the fluffy versionChapter two is the slightly more angsty versionJuno says himself that he's a "decent cook" and so why wouldn't Nureyev take advantage of that fact?





	1. Fluff

“Juno! Can you come here?” All Nureyev heard from the bedroom was a muffled groan. Nureyev rolled his eyes and leaned against a counter, looking at his nails, realizing just how chipped the purple polish on them was.“Juno, if you don’t, I’ll probably end up destroying your kitchen!” The sounds of Juno getting up from the bed and throwing on some slippers and a sweatshirt increased rapidly, knowing that Peter truly would end up destroying his kitchen.

As he shuffled out to his kitchen, he saw that Peter had all the required ingredients set out to make cinnamon french toast, and the pan was already on the stove preheating. Peter looked up over the counter, and smiled at Juno. “Peter.”

“Yes, Juno dear?” he said, leaning forward.

“You just wanted me to make french toast this morning, didn’t you.”

“Well, you are the better cook between the two of us.”

“Yeah I know. Please don’t tell me you tried to make coffee.”

Peter looked sideways, and pushed a mug towards him. “I mean, I hope I didn’t mess up instant coffee. With two spoons of sugar and a dash of vanilla creamer.”

Juno looked down at the cup, which didn’t look too out of the ordinary, and then back up at Peter, whose smile returned to his face, but this time slightly more hesitant. Juno maintained eye contact with Peter as he picked the mug up to his mouth and drank from it. Surprisingly, it was actually drinkable liquid for once, as opposed to the usual sludge that Peter would make when he tried to make coffee. Juno put the cup down and smiled. “Wow, Peter. You actually managed to make coffee without burning it to shit or making it a half step above water. I’m so proud of you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but it came mainly as an effect of being tired. He figured there may still be hope for him yet.

Peter slid around to the other side of the countertop to wrap his arms around Juno. Juno didn’t return any sort of affection, merely rolled his eyes and continued to drink his coffee. “Soooo…. Does that mean you’ll make french toast?” 

Juno set his coffee down and turned around in Nureyev’s grasp, and lightly pushed his arms away, holding them to Peter’s sides, giving him a light kiss on the cheek before scooting around him to start in on making the french toast. “So why are you up so early? It’s a Saturday, Saturdays are  _ designed _ for sleeping in.”

Peter had just picked up his coffee mug, but set it back down so he could look at Juno in amazement. “Juno. It’s 2pm. You  _ did _ sleep in.”

Juno looked over at Peter. “What.” He looked at the clock on the microwave, which read 14:07, telling him that Peter was really telling the truth. “Oh shit. I was gonna go shopping with Rita at noon because she wanted someone to go with her and also because she brought me lunch for the past two weeks.”

“Why weren’t you just bringing your own lunch?”

“Because I forget about food until Rita’s like ‘Mistah Steel, ya stomach’s growlin’ and shoves food at me.”

“How are you so good at doing an impression of Rita, that sounds exactly like her? Your voice is so different from hers!”

“I’m just a better actor than you thought, Peter. Also she’s worked with me for a long time. And she talks a lot. And that’s not the point, I have to call her and apologize.” He started to leave the kitchen to find a comms, but Nureyev stopped him.

“Juno, it’s okay. She came by, saw I was here, and we went shopping together instead. We didn’t want to wake you up - she insisted we don’t in fact. You work yourself too hard, Juno. But did you not notice that’s how I had ingredients for french toast? Despite the fact that you’re wonderful at cooking-”

“I’m decent, not wonderful.”

“-Wonderful at cooking, your fridge hardly ever has more than beer and maybe some leftover pizza in it. Good at cooking, shitty at taking care of yourself.”

Juno sighed, and turned back towards the nearly done french toast. He rummaged around in his cupboards, finding a plate and a fork, and looked at the other supplies that Peter had bought while he was out and found syrup and powdered sugar. He put the french toast onto the plate, and slid it towards Nureyev. “Decent cook. Terrible gambler. Not an exorcist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last line is taken /almost/ directly from murderous mask, so that's why it sounds familiar. Chapter two is largely the same, but slightly longer, as it'll be the same story just taken a different (angsty) direction. please kudos and comment if you like it.


	2. The Angst (TM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the same base story as the first chapter, just it has more of an angsty twist to it (basically instead of "oh cute neat little ending" juno is just really fuckin depressed and has an eating disorder)

“Juno! Can you come here?” All Nureyev heard from the bedroom was a muffled groan. Nureyev rolled his eyes and leaned against a counter, looking at his nails, realizing just how chipped the purple polish on them was.“Juno, if you don’t, I’ll probably end up destroying your kitchen!” The sounds of Juno getting up from the bed and throwing on some slippers and a sweatshirt increased rapidly, knowing that Peter truly would end up destroying his kitchen.

As he shuffled out to his kitchen, he saw that Peter had all the required ingredients set out to make cinnamon french toast, and the pan was already on the stove preheating. Peter looked up over the counter, and smiled at Juno. “Peter.”

“Yes, Juno dear?” he said, leaning forward.

“You just wanted me to make french toast this morning, didn’t you.”

“Well, you are the better cook between the two of us.”

“Yeah I know. Please don’t tell me you tried to make coffee.”

Peter looked sideways, and pushed a mug towards him. “I mean, I hope I didn’t mess up instant coffee. With two spoons of sugar and a dash of vanilla creamer.”

Juno looked down at the cup, which didn’t look too out of the ordinary, and then back up at Peter, whose smile returned to his face, but this time slightly more hesitant. Juno maintained eye contact with Peter as he picked the mug up to his mouth and drank from it. Surprisingly, it was actually drinkable liquid for once, as opposed to the usual sludge that Peter would make when he tried to make coffee. Juno put the cup down and smiled. “Wow, Peter. You actually managed to make coffee without burning it to shit or making it a half step above water. I’m so proud of you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but it came mainly as an effect of being tired. He figured there may still be hope for him yet.

Peter slid around to the other side of the countertop to wrap his arms around Juno. Juno didn’t return any sort of affection, merely rolled his eyes and continued to drink his coffee. “Soooo…. Does that mean you’ll make french toast?” 

Juno set his coffee down and turned around in Nureyev’s grasp, and lightly pushed his arms away, holding them to Peter’s sides, giving him a light kiss on the cheek before scooting around him to start in on making the french toast. “So why are you up so early? It’s a Saturday, Saturdays are  _ designed _ for sleeping in.”

Peter had just picked up his coffee mug, but set it back down so he could look at Juno in amazement. “Juno. It’s 2pm. You  _ did _ sleep in.”

Juno looked over at Peter. “What.” He looked at the clock on the microwave, which read 14:07, telling him that Peter was really telling the truth. “Oh shit. I was gonna go shopping with Rita at noon because she wanted someone to go with her and also because she brought me lunch for the past two weeks I need to call her and-”

“Why weren’t you just bringing your own lunch?”

“Because I forget about food until Rita’s like ‘Mistah Steel, ya stomach’s growlin’ and shoves food at me.”

“How are you so good at doing an impression of Rita, that sounds exactly like her? Your voice is so different from hers!”

“I’m just a better actor than you thought, Peter. Also she’s worked with me for a long time. And she talks a lot. And that’s not the point, I have to call her and apologize.” He started to leave the kitchen to find a comms, but Nureyev stopped him.

“Juno, it’s okay. She came by, saw I was here, and we went shopping together instead. We didn’t want to wake you up - she insisted we don’t in fact. You work yourself too hard, Juno. But did you not notice that’s how I had ingredients for french toast? Despite the fact that you’re wonderful at cooking-”

“I’m decent, not wonderful.”

“-Wonderful at cooking, your fridge hardly ever has more than beer and maybe some leftover pizza in it. Good at cooking, shitty at taking care of yourself.”

“You say that as though it’s a bad thing, Peter.”

“It is, Juno. You need to take care of yourself. You work yourself to the point where you slept for fourteen hours and it still wasn’t enough, you get sick all the time, and then you don’t even feed yourself. Rita does it because she also cares about you and doesn’t want you to die.”

Juno stared down at the pan with the sizzling french toast. “That makes one of us in that office,” he muttered under his breath, hoping Peter couldn’t hear him, knowing full well he could when his reaction consisted of him coming over to the other side of the counter to turn Juno around so he would have to look at Nureyev.

“Hey. One of us in the office and one of us in this apartment right now. Juno I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself.”

“Have you considered that I’m fine with it like this? Happier, even?”  
“Considered, yes. Accepted, no. Because I choose to believe that there’s something wrong here that you’re refusing to see or get help for, and all it’s going to do it harm you every day between now and when you die.”

“Well gee, Peter, maybe that’ll make that day come a little faster. Less suffering then, just what you’d want.” He turned around to make sure to flip the french toast so it didn’t burn. Just because he didn’t enjoy cooking or the current thread of conversation doesn’t mean he was going to intentionally make Nureyev’s late breakfast shitty. “Look. There’s a lot of shit that’s ‘wrong.’ There isn’t enough time to go through all of it even if I wasn’t actively employed in a job where I could die any day and there would be a grand total of four people who MIGHT notice that I was gone. I’m tired, Peter. I’m tired of existing, and I’m tired of trying to maintain this body as it just gradually falls to shit because I’m getting old. Most private eyes don’t make it past 30, 35 is really pushing it, and I’ve only made it beyond that through dumb luck, technological advancements, and honestly? You and Rita.”

“So then why are you just trying to push us away? Is that what you’re actively doing? Is that what you want?”

“Ye- n- I don’t know, Nureyev. I just want to relax. And right now I get through that by sleeping away as much time as possible. And before you tell me I’m getting off topic, I don’t care about being a “wonderful” cook. Most days all I can manage to get together after work is a PB&J and even then that’s a struggle. I just don’t want anything. I’d rather just go to bed.”

“Because that’s what gets rid of the pains in your stomach?”

“Maybe, Peter, but it’s not like that wasn’t the way I lived until the police academy. Don’t act like you’ve never gone to bed to avoid it either.”

“I did it because Mag and I were running away from -”

“I didn’t ask for the circumstances, I asked for the confirmation.”

Peter leaned across the counter to put his hands over Juno’s where they rested on the countertop. “Yes. I have. And it sucked, and you shouldn’t go through that everyday, because I love you and you deserve better than only taking care of yourself at the whim of me and Rita and our presence.”

Juno picked up his coffee cup again, and turned away from Peter while drinking from it. He set it down to grab a plate from overhead, and a fork from a drawer. He turned over the french toast one last time, to double check that it wasn’t burnt, and slid it onto the plate. He nudged the plate towards Nureyev, noticing a bottle of syrup that had been put in the bag from the store as well, and pushed that towards him as well. When Peter raised an eyebrow at him, clearly saying ‘what did we just talk about,’ Juno just poured himself some more coffee. “I’m good with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rip in rip. (The PB&J bit came from a series of tweets from joshua ilon about junos fave kind of sandwhich, i'll find a link for that twitter thread later bc someone shared it on discord.) Also, i'm sorry this ending just got worse and worse as i kept writing it bc I too am too depressed to remember that eating exists sometimes and basically I just forgot about this and then didn't remember where I wanted to take it but had promised a second version so here it is. If you did like me making juno a Sad Boi, feel free to kudos and comment, follow me wherever you'd like @mercutiglo


End file.
